My mother's dinner today was one of the all time worst ones I've ever eaten. She made a Lasagne. I'm not a huge fan of lasagne though I can at a push whip up a fairly mean tasty one.
My mother's consisted of minced beef, some smattering of sauce and thick pasta sheets that were inedible.
I keep going there expecting a Sunday Lunch. Where's the Roast Beef and Roast Potatoes?
She thinks she's gone all up market and trendy with her cookery.
I'm now partially nauseous and partially starving hungry.
Then we had the usual Sunday parental conversation... blah blah what the neighbours have been up to.... Then my father suddenly got up and washed the dishes. The last time he washed up must have been 1978. Now I'm convinced that either he's having an affair or a brain tumour.
My Mother told us about her club she goes to on a Monday afternoon.
Last week they had a professional whistler in. A whole hour of whistling. He kept getting out of breath and stopping mid song though.
He was from the University of Withywood, which isn't a University at all

"One of our number, from humble beginnings in our backyard spontaneous cabarets, has now appeared twice on television - the inimitable Withywood whistler, Don Townshend, who is the first person in the field of entertainment to be launched by the University. Let's hope that he is the first of many to go hence and dazzle the world".

He told them he'd been on 'Dick and Dom in da Bungalow'. No-one knew who they were, so my mother felt really young.
Her Sunday tales and amusing (right) anecdotes make me dread getting old.
Yay I'm two weeks free of the Evil Effexor today. The real Trin is emerging. God help the world........